


Keep It In Check

by aoshiru



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Casual Sex, Character Development, Characters will be added as they appear - Freeform, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Interpersonal Conflict, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-12-17 11:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21053549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aoshiru/pseuds/aoshiru
Summary: Eridan and Sollux are university students, both exes of the same girl, and a disastrous pair that's never gotten along-- until they wind up drinking together at a college party. As it turns out, they might very well suit each other... in an unseemly sort of way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started out as a oneshot idea and as I was writing I found the inspiration to develop it further. Switches character POV chapter by chapter between Sollux and Eridan as the dynamics of their new relationship are explored and developed. No idea how long this is gonna be, so stay tuned! Will add additional character/ship tags and warnings as they come up. There will be sex scenes.

Classes are out, spring vacation has begun, and you’ve got a date with your PC lined up for this evening. Does it get any better than this? You think not. Your roommate is already way ahead of you, tapping violently away at his keyboard. He’s still stuck on the same lines of code he’s been struggling on-and-off with for the last week or so, and you're standing over his shoulder, watching this trainwreck unfold before your eyes. Sure, you could help him, and sometimes you do, but other times it's funnier to just to watch. It can get pretty fucking hilarious to witness how much he works himself up over something you find so mindlessly easy.

“Seriously, KK?”

“Sollux, if you say _one more fucking word about this_ I swear to _God_—”

“Holy shit,” you snicker, examining the last few lines. “You’re literally so bad at writing code it makes the teachers cry.”

He goes off on you as expected. A little bantering is what you guys are really good at, so long as it stays light-hearted enough, (you can also be pretty harsh on each other sometimes). To say the least, it keeps things interesting, and you feel really lucky to have him as a roommate, even though you'd probably never tell him that. 

Before you get a chance to settle down and actually boot up your PC, a social media notification draws your attention to your cell phone. You don’t even know why you look at it—total waste of energy, but you do, and a second later you’re staring at your ex-girlfriend’s newest Facebook photo. Some notable faces are there with her, Vriska Serket, for one, who you're convinced is not only a literal fucking sociopath but also someone who’s recently managed to garner way more social power than she even knows what to do with. There in the picture, to Feferi’s right, is your other best friend, Aradia. You’ve known her for what feels like an eternity, so naturally, you were secretly elated when she applied to the same university as you. To her left, though, is Feferi’s other ex. Eridan Ampora has got a really stupid look on his face telling you that he’d rather be literally anywhere else than in this picture. It’s from last night, apparently— some party you hadn't heard about. Last you checked, Feferi was steering pretty clear of him. Guess they’re on good terms again? Huh.

You stare at it some more.

Until you thoughtlessly open up your inbox. One number on your recents list has no caller ID attached to it yet. You select it, then begin to type.

  
You breathe out, setting your phone down.

The first time you found yourself alone with Eridan Ampora was two weeks ago, by chance, because of a party you hadn't wanted to attend. Naturally, you’d known him well enough before-- well, not really, but both of you being Feferi’s exes, you used to mock him for his passive-aggressive presence, always lurking around while you dated her like some kind of desperate, angry stalker. At one point, she_ really _let him have it, and it escalated to where the two weren’t even on speaking terms anymore, despite their history as childhood friends.

As it turned out, though, you broke it off with FF, (as gently as possible—you didn’t want to lead her on, but after a short while you realized you just weren’t as into dating her as she was you, and you do still consider her a good friend, despite the recent awkwardness between you). But then, at this awful fucking party, you run into Eridan. You run into Eridan, you get in a fight with Eridan, you take advantage of the free liquor and depression-drink solo, then argue with him all over again when he seeks you out for the second time. And it gets worse, much worse, because once the liquor hits you you're getting pressured by him and other nearby idiots into a literal drinking contest-- literal shots. And no, you've never done something that stupid, and holy shit are you ashamed of ever having been drunk enough to agree to it. But egotistical, depression-drunk you literally could not resist the opportunity to humiliate him publicly.

Nobody won, because, as it turned out, nobody was keeping score. Feeling like a straight-up fucking fool, you decided to give Ampora yet another piece of your mind, but that piece of your mind was not only on the subject of the loser you've always taken him for, but also the other losers stinking up the nasty basement you were lurking in. And holy shit, when he joined in, did he have some things to say about the people at this party-- straight-up the worst sort of gossip you'd hear from the most well-informed sort of social lurkers in all these party scenes on campus. And some of it was pretty hilarious. When he wasn't shit-talking the people around you, he was taunting you, and you had no trouble retaliating just the same. You actually started enjoying your bantering with him. And the longer you talked, the drunker you got, and the nicer he looked, the stupider you became. He's always been good-looking, just never a target of anyone with decent taste because his personality seriously sucks shit. Like, he's definitely pretentious-looking, but still attractive enough to draw the eyes of the people around him, from his stupid, bleached tuft of hair to the sharp line of his jaw and his lean, but full figure, (not scrawny like you, and he’s almost just as tall). But did you ever care how good-looking he was? Definitely not. You don't have a type when it comes to guys, because you're not bi, and you're not gay. That's the impression you were under.

But then both of you left the party. How the fuck that happened, you can't honestly remember. You have no idea how he convinced you to leave with him, whether it was for more drinks when the place ran out, or better music, or to escape the stinking, shitty atmosphere, you can't remember, because from the end of the party to your arrival in his apartment, the sequence of events is a real fucking blur. And it was by the time the two of you made it to his apartment that you sort of started to lose your handle on things.

Sure, you’re pent up. You’re irritable, and sex, among other indulgences, has proven a temporary relief from all the tension you’ve got building up inside you.

But this goes beyond that.

How could you have known, that the moment you finally found yourself alone with him, being taunted by this stupid, flirty fucking douche, you’d be struck by the urge to take that tension out on him—in the worst sort of way. 

You fucked him, face-down, right into his pretentious leather couch.

So now what? You wouldn't be questioning your sexuality so intently if you hadn't enjoyed it way more than you're comfortable admitting to yourself. Maybe you're gay? You're at least bi. And you've never been the type to go chasing after one-night-stands, but after stumbling, totally sated, out of his apartment in the middle of the night, you might have done some thinking. You pulled some strings, got a hold of his number, and texted him a few days later. 

He's not nearly as pleasant to be around when he's sober, that's for sure, but he's just as good in bed. Actually, he's better when he's sober, and you've hooked up twice since then. You're starting to find his personality more tolerable, anyway-- mostly because you can't say you mind having someone around who can handle your taunting and offbeat sense of humor. 

By now Eridan has to know what inviting yourself over implies for the evening, and you know that he’s not going to deny you it either, not when he wants it just as bad as you, you're pretty sure. If not just as bad, then probably worse.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan POV.

On the other side of campus, just a ten-minute walk from school grounds, is your stylish one-bedroom apartment. It's definitely not anywhere as big as you'd like it to be, but you've put more than enough thought into the tasteful decor. A large hanging map rests behind glass on the cream-colored walls, a Persian rug spreads out in the center of your living room and an especially elegant mahogany coffee table stands nicely on top of it. These, among other things, are your personal touch, and it wasn't until you had the chance to personalize this place that you started to feel proud of it. You've never been so comfortable living anywhere else, and up until two weeks ago, you’d also managed to keep it free of inconsiderate guests who lack even the _slightest_ _shred of respect_ for its tastefulness.

But two weeks ago…

Intoxicated and impulsive, you let in a nuisance. Actually, you very intently urged him over, stupidly bribing his drunk ass with more liquor, better atmosphere than that shithole of a basement. Of course, you weren’t kidding about that. Half the people in that stuffy room made you sicker than the nasty smell of sweat and sour beer wafting through the stale air.

And really, it’s not as if you went to that party knowing he was there, expecting literally anything from him, because, fuck, you’ve never even liked the guy. In fact, you were pretty convinced you hated his fucking guts until about four drinks in when you found yourself struck by a pretty tasteless change of heart and a familiar sort of temptation.

God, what is_ wrong_ with you? As soon as the alcohol really gets to you, you’re thinking about hitting it off with the biggest prick you know.

But by the time he actually started giving you the time of day, after the drinking contest and the shit-talking and the rest of it, he was definitely checking you out-- you know a look when you fucking see one. You knew he was, and as soon as you realized, you were suddenly looking at _him_ in some way awful different. You'd checked him out before-- whatever. He's tall, he's lean, but not much of a pretty boy with those masculine features and that choppy black hair of his. He's always looked all right to you, aside from the stupid bicolored glasses and every single fucking facial expression he’s literally ever made.

Really, though. You already know you’ve got an issue controlling yourself when you drink, but you also know you can’t just put all this on that. You provoked him from the moment you found him at that god damned fucking party, first because you hated him, then because you'd never gotten the same rise out of him sober, and finally, somehow, because you realized your taunting was actually catching his interest. He'd only retaliate in a way that made you want to do it again, and just like that your bantering went back and fourth until you knew you kind of wanted him. And that's not usually how you fucking work-- Well, usually you don't end up hanging around guys like Sol, because they're bastards, that's why. But then again, it's also been harder for you to be outright and straightforward with your dates, like with Fef, back when you always had to worry about hurting her feelings, being too crude and too abrasive, and causing a fuss and the rest of it. 

But this guy was impenetrable. And the moment you landed yourselves in your apartment, once your taunting pissed him off enough and he finally shoved you down, you'd been waiting for it. Maybe he saw that much, read everything right, but fuck if you could have known what he’d do next. The guy’s a fucking monster. You’d never had it so rough in your whole damn life.

You grit your teeth.

Yeah, it hurt at first. You've fucked guys before though-- well, one guy. You've had it before, and it wasn't just the actual sex that night that got you going. It was the treatment you got from him. The way he handled you, just whatever it was that he said and however he did what he did, all of it had you so fucking turned on the entire fucking time, and fuck, you're not admitting that to anyone. 

But you thought that was it. Really, by no means were you ever expecting to get a text from him a few days after. You're not even sure how he got your fucking number, because no matter how drunk you were that night, you're positive you wouldn't have tried giving it to him. 

And now you've got... whatever this is with him. You know what he’s coming here for, and most of you is pretty okay with that, even though he still pisses you off like nobody’s fucking business. Seated, restless at the kitchen table, you rest your chin in your hand and reluctantly start to reminisce, wondering to yourself for the umpteenth time since this began whether all of this is one of the worst or best ideas you've ever had. You breathe out, slide your palm slowly across your face and over your eyes, placing yourself into darkness.

If you think about it enough, put yourself back there, you can still feel his hands on you.

You nearly fall out of your fucking seat when your text tone tears right through the silence of your apartment.

And he’s here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sollux POV.

With the sound of a click, the first door at the entryway inches open.

You bite your lip.

Just in time for your rendezvous, your head conveniently decided to try splitting in two, and it’s not helping you feel any less antsy about this visit, that’s for sure.

Plus, this place is kind of an eyesore. In your third year of college, you’re still living in the dorms, while this guy’s been out here in his pretentious one-bedroom apartment since he started, you bet. Another tenant rudely brushes past you on your way in, and you’re already kind of seething when you make it to the elevator with the stupid gold-painted doors. Welcome back to this fancy shithole, you guess. At least you don’t have to talk to anyone on your way up, but this place still somehow manages to get worse every time you see it.

His apartment is on the third floor, just a couple doors down the hall. The elevator doors slide open.

You hesitate.

Jesus Christ, why are you hesitating? Stuffing your hands in the pockets of your hoodie, you push yourself forward until you’re standing where you need to be.

Yeah.

So, you’re standing there.

Knock, already. Fucking do it.

And you do. Aggressively. Why the fuck _are_ you hesitating? You’re twice as irritated as you were on the way up, and three times as irritated as you were before you had to walk inside this godforsaken building and start breathing the same air as the other insufferable rich kids lurking here.

God, your head hurts.

When it finally swings open, Eridan is standing there with a skeptical look. Why’s he looking at you like that? Is it your expression? What you’re wearing? Do you give a fuck? Definitely not. Just look at him-- he’s practically in uniform. His tan sweater has a low-hanging V-neck collar. Beneath it there’s a white shirt polo shirt with the top two buttons intentionally undone, (because nothing about his appearance has ever seemed unintentional to you), and his hair is slicked back as usual, nothing out of place. Even his dark grey pants are fitted and just short of being nice enough to be considered dressy. Once you’re done judging him for his preppy-looking outfit, you’re starting to get carried away with the rest of him, and you have to stop yourself before you start giving his good looks a whole lot more credit than they actually deserve. Seriously, you know he just dresses himself up like this because he’s the most pretentious, stuck-up guy you’ve ever known— showy and totally full of himself. Who the fuck does he think he’s impressing, anyway? Probably does it on days when he doesn’t even leave the house, too. He looks like a stupid, preppy asshole, and it pisses you off.

Fuck. The meds _still _haven’t kicked in.

“‘Sup, ED,” you say sharply. “I see you’re back from boarding school.” You tap your foot and wait for him to let you in the fucking room.

“Yeah, says the guy with no more than three dirty, stinkin' T-shirts to his name.” He squints back at you, happy to return your show of judgment. It takes him another couple seconds to move, too, just enough time to piss you off a little more.

“I love my dirty T-shirts, thanks.”

So you push on past him, striding through the living room and into the kitchen, then decide to casually tug on the door to his fridge. Usually, you don’t go around acting like you live here, but you _have _come by three times already, and you’re such a mess of aches and pains and nerves that you don’t honestly have it in you to give a fuck. You need something to drink. You might also need to sit down if this gets any worse. You pull out the filtered water he keeps in there, set it on the counter and start rummaging through his cabinets in search of a glass.

Naturally, he storms after you. After snatching up the first glass you find, you turn around to face him.

“Okay, where’s your fuckin’ sense a’ decency?" he snaps, marching right into your space. "How about you try askin’ the host before you go rudely lookin’ for somethin’ in someone else’s place?” 

“I think I might have to find some new decency, ED.” You wince when your head throbs, grit your teeth, and loudly set your glass down on the counter. “Pretty sure I lost it all the second I stuck my dick in you.”

He lights up like a firecracker. There are literal sparks in his disgruntled gaze. His lips curl with indignation. In an instant, he’s pissed, furious even—holy shit.

You weren’t serious. Obviously, you weren’t serious—he should know that, right? Maybe it wasn’t that obvious, actually. Amidst the pounding in your head, you’re quickly realizing how fucking tasteless that was of you to say, and Eridan looks about ready to seriously come at you. At the same time, he’s actually trying to keep his cool, reel himself in. You watch him grit his teeth, stiffly takes a step closer, and feel his index finger jab right into your chest. “Don’t even _think_ ‘a pretendin’ like you’re _better_ than me when we both know you’re a _depraved_ fuck,” he snarls.

Okay, you fucked up.

But now _you’re_ pissed. Where does he get off calling _you _depraved? Your face is hot, your head is pounding, and you literally have to stop yourself from grabbing him.

You’ve got to calm down. You shove away, face your back to him so you can gather your thoughts. Into the quiet, you snap, “So what? As if you’re not just as bad. Probably worse.” Your lisp is much less subtle than it should be these days, but you don't give a fuck. From over your shoulders, you add before he can retort, “And you knew I was an asshole when you decided to sleep with me—”

“Okay, _you’re _the one who got in touch with _me_,” he spits back.

“Yeah, so?! Why the fuck would I _be here_ if I didn't want to be?” 

“An' how the _fuck_ should I figure that when _all you do_ is—”

Your headache surges, you whip around in the middle of his sentence, raise your voice a few levels too high and bark, “My head is _literally _splitting open, ED. Give me a fucking break.”

The room goes momentarily silent.

You watch as his features finally relax. Sure, maybe the understanding cools him off a bit, but he's still scowling at you when he finally takes his seat at the table.

“Well, you could’a fuckin’ told me,” he grumbles. Looking at you, and then away from you, he takes out his phone but barely gives the screen much of a glance before stuffing it back away in his pocket. “Don’t you take somethin’ for those migraines ‘a yours? Or do you like makin' everyone else's day just as awful as your own?”

“No,” you lie, rubbing your temples. “Why would I do that when I could spend my day suffering? Dumbass.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised for even a second.” Eridan plants his chin in his palm, watching you knowingly, like he’s a genius for having pinned you down for something. Stupid asshole. “Sufferin’s your preferred way a’ doin’ things.”

You roll your eyes behind your bicolored glasses-- as much as you physically can. “Yeah, totally, ED, suffering is my shit.” Well, it’s not even a complete lie. Sometimes you’ve got a penchant for it. But in any case, you finish your water, set the glass in the sink and finally go to take a seat beside him.

Before either of you can say much more, though, you're swiftly interrupted by a vibration sound trailing up from beneath the table. You look at Eridan, intently, sort of hoping he won't respond to it.

And naturally, Eridan whips out his phone, shoots you an icy glare and answers the call.

“…Yeah, what’s up, Kar?”

Seriously? Why the hell is KK _calling_ this douche? You know they’re pretty good friends—you know for a fact that it doesn’t bother you on any level. You also know that friends call each other all the time. But not you—you’ll make some friendly phone calls when your life depends on it. But come on, can’t you get this guy alone for a second? Without interruptions from KK and your own shitty, passive aggressive sense of humor? You’re here fighting back another wave of irritation, and before you can extrapolate on that thought and call yourself out on your own dumb bullshit, Eridan’s jaw just randomly drops.

“Fef?” he gapes. “What’re you—”

No fucking way. Your heart… sinks a little? Oh my God, your heart definitely did _not_ just sink a little. But honestly, okay, why wouldn’t it? FF and your awkward post-breakup friendship is_ really_ not what you want to be thinking about right now, much less her renewed friendship with ED. It doesn’t entirely feel like jealousy, but it bothers you. Maybe you shouldn’t be so bothered by it, but you are. The whole dynamic between you three just makes you seriously uncomfortable.

You still hear Karkat’s voice on the other end, though, until it mingles with FF’s. You guess they must be hanging out? Does KK hang out with FF now? Jesus Christ, where have_ you_ been?

“Nah, I’m, uh. I’m busy tonight,” Eridan stammers.

Sounds of disappointment mingle at the other end of the line, but naturally, KK does everyone a favor and goes to question ED’s statement.

“I’m serious, Kar— No, I’m— Listen, I’m hangin’ out with someone— Okay, how the _fuck _is that any ‘a your business—?” The longer the conversation goes on, the more irritated Eridan becomes, especially when KK very characteristically jumps in and repeatedly cuts him off. His hand is holding up his forehead by the end of it, and while he’s not paying attention, you get a half-decent look at him. Rare chances like this are the perfect opportunity to check him out, mostly because he can’t make any obnoxious comments if he catches you staring. 

“_God,_ fine, whatever, I’ll fuckin’ text you. Tell Fef I’ll see her tomorrow,” he snaps. And then he hangs up.

The two of you look at each other.

“Well, that was a straight-up mess,” you mutter.

“Yeah, say it again, why don’t you.”

“Why the shit are FF and KK hanging out?” 

Eridan sighs and shoves his phone back into his pocket. “They’re with a bigger group or somethin’. Who even cares.”

His energy looks totally depleted. Damn. You watch him in silence until your thoughts momentarily carry you away. “…Have you told KK anything?”

Bemused, he furrows his brows at you. “About what?”

“About us, jackass.”

“No— _Fuck _no, I didn’t tell him about us!"

Okay, he nearly reeled back out of his seat. How did you just catch him that off guard? Or... is he flustered? Is this what that looks like on him? You’re suddenly much more interested, and right about to start teasing him when he cuts in and intently continues, as if defending against your obvious intentions. “Anyway.” His palm comes down firmly on the tabletop. You look down at it, then back at him, raising a skeptical brow. “You’re the one who invited yourself over here an’ I’ve got a whole evenin’ free-- which I’m wastin’ right now as is.”

“Yeah,_ right, _you’re wasting it--” you taunt. But he pushes on, doesn’t back down at all now that he’s gotten started.

“Just give me what you came here for.”

You literally cannot stop yourself from smirking. “Eheh. Seriously, ED? Was that really the smoothest invitation you could muster?” 

“It’s not a fuckin’ invitation, asswipe,” he snaps, leaning over the table. “I’m _tellin’_ you to do it.”

You snort, then chuckle, and lean back in your chair. He’s watching you, waiting eagerly for your response and looking increasingly restless. So restless, in fact, that instead of a response, you literally cannot physically stop yourself from teasing him, nor can you get this toothy grin off your face. “Holy shit, you’re so embarrassing. How the hell can you stand listening to yourself talk all day?”

“Who_ gives _a fuck.” Eridan’s feet suddenly hit the tile, and you follow with your gaze, thoroughly amused as he stands up straight, looming right over you where you remain comfortably seated. “I’m _sayin’_ get up an’ get on with it or get out ‘a my apartment.” 

So he says.

You’re okay with this, you guess. You might be more put-off if those words had more of a bite to them, if you didn't have as good a sense of him by now, if that little gleam of interest weren’t unmistakably there in the depth of his blue irises. Your headache’s finally receding, and Eridan Ampora definitely does not want to admit he's got a thing for you.

Yeah. You’re okay with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated this, but mostly because I rewrote this chapter a handful of times. I also went and rewrote bits of the first two chapters as well, (heads up). Everything prior to this was evidently more of an introduction to the actual story, so this really felt like the actual starting point, and though I'm still not sure about how long I want this fic to be, I have a couple ideas to toy with moving forward. I'm pretty unlikely to drop this any time soon because I've already spent a hell of a lot more time on this one fucking chapter than I ever expected to lol. 
> 
> Next chapter is NSFW. Comments, criticisms, etc are always welcome and greatly appreciated.


End file.
